by Isaac Hooke
“That old-ass show?” Bender returned. “Ha! Wouldn’t catch me dead watching brainfudge like that. Winter Olympics. Pah.”
“That’s right, you only watch porn,” Shaw sent.
“Rage, I forgot how much of a riot this woman of yours is,” Bender transmitted. “You gotta bring her along on missions more often.”
“Cut the chatter, people,” Chief Bourbonjack sent. “According to the data shared by Shaw, we’re coming up on the end of the tunnel. I want you all on high alert. The horde has been forced underground, remember. We have to be ready for anything.”
The tunnel leveled off and I slid to a halt. I spotted Shaw right away; she stood near the front of the squad with Tung.
She was safe.
I released Giger and sat up so that I could scan the tunnel ahead with my rifle scope. The cave proved empty, at least as far as I could tell in the murk.
Moving warily, we advanced toward the flashing rendezvous point indicated on the map one klick ahead. The tunnel possessed the same fifteen-meter-diameter dimensions as the shaft, and was obviously carved by the same behemoth. I just hoped we didn’t wander into the slug that had created it.
I stuck close to Shaw. She was aware of my presence, and seemed to welcome it. Though I had the impression she wanted me near not so much so that I could protect her, but rather that she could protect me. It was a strange sensation.
She had changed. How could she not? She’d been a prisoner of war of some kind, trapped on the far side of the galaxy. Who could say what terrible things had happened to her? When we were out of danger, I was going to get her to tell me everything.
As we proceeded onward through the dark, a sense of guilt arose inside me, one that I had trouble dousing.
My squad brothers and I had survived yet another calamity. And Shaw was alive. Shaw. The woman I thought I’d never see again. I had paid my last respects to her at the Gate to Geronimo, watching as it was dismantled deep within enemy territory. And now she was alive.
But back to my guilt. I should have been happy for all of us, right? We’d been spared while Hongleong City burned. Yet I couldn’t help but think of those refugees, like Giger and Tung, who had survived the initial onslaught and remained hidden in the city above. Earlier I had estimated there might be around five thousand of them left.
Five thousand who were now dying horrible deaths. Roasted alive.
Why should we be spared and not them? Just because we had powerful friends?
The guilt was slowly replaced with anger. My desire for bloodshed had weakened earlier, but those five thousand fresh deaths stoked the fire of my vengeance.
Forget them, the rational part of my mind told me. We have to make it home. That’s all that matters now. Besides, Shaw is back. Do you really need vengeance anymore?
Forget five thousand innocent lives? the vengeful part said. And what about Alejandro? Lana? Can you forget them too? And what about the future of humanity?
The vengeful part was right, unfortunately. Still, there was no way to enact that vengeance, not until we could return to the fleet and plan our next operation.
We approached two alien mechs, positioned on either side of the tunnel like giant, golden statues. Their hulls glowed gently, illuminating the area.
The Chief glanced at Shaw. “Friends?”
Shaw nodded. “Azen would have sent them. The tunnel is clear from this point forward. We can relax now.”
We passed the golden mechs. Despite Shaw’s words, most of my brothers were on edge because of the alien units. Gloves firmly gripped rifles, and though the weapons were lowered, fingers were definitely on triggers. The Chief had shared his vid feed earlier, true, but this was the first time most of my brothers were seeing these things in person.
When the rightmost sentry swiveled its oblong head toward us, directing that red cyclopean vision sensor our way, Manic got spooked and raised his rifle. It didn’t help that the computers in our HUDs marked the mechs in red—enemies.
The Chief stepped toward him. “Stand down, Manic!”
“Sorry, Chief.” Manic quickly lowered his weapon. It was a testament to our discipline that Manic obeyed the Chief without question, despite his obvious fear.
“They won’t harm you,” Shaw said.
Her voice didn’t do much to reassure him—Manic kept looking over his shoulder until the mechs were far behind.
Shaw led the way, carrying Tung. She seemed entirely at ease. As for the rest of us, well, the tension in the group didn’t really ebb. Sure, we felt safe from the crabs and slugs, but who would protect us from the golden mechs?
Giger came forward. “Girl,” he said, extending his arms toward Tung, “give me the child.”
For a moment I thought Shaw was going to resist, but then she handed the kid over. Giger hoisted Tung over his shoulder and whispered something into his ears. Tung lifted up his aReal visor and reached for Shaw, but Giger spun away, quietly scolding the child.
“Seems like a nice kid,” Shaw said to me.
“Sure,” I agreed.
“Where did you find him?”
“One of the apartments up in the city. I’m just surprised he survived on his own as long as he did.”
Shaw looked at me with those intelligent yet troubled eyes. “I want to know everything that’s happened since the last time we saw each other.”
And so I told her. From the aborted Crimson Pipeline operation on Tau Ceti II-c, to the failed attempt at capturing the Guide, to my interrogation at the hands of Lana and subsequent escape, to the unsuccessful operation aboard Bogey 2, to our struggle on this moon. I expected to catch some flak from the Chief on some points—for revealing classified details and whatnot when aliens could potentially be eavesdropping—but he didn’t say a word. I guess he figured the Phants would know most of what I shared with her already, anyway. Maybe Shaw knew all of it, too, but just wanted to hear it from me.
When I was done, Shaw told me (and hence everyone else) how she had survived on Geronimo after crash-landing her shuttle. Eight months into her plight, she had met an SK named Fan. Together, they had retrieved one of the mechs left behind by Bravo platoon and used it to place an improvised explosive over what she thought was a teleportation device. The explosion failed to cause the damage she thought it would and the pair was captured. Fan was integrated as a Phant host while Shaw was rescued by Azen and brought to his homeworld.
“Why is this Azen helping us?” I said before she could say any more.
The Chief glanced our way, listening intently.
“Azen has taken an interest in humanity,” Shaw said.
“What if we don’t want his help?” I said.
“Don’t be silly. We need his help.”
“And what’s the price, really?” I exchanged a dubious look with the Chief. “And don’t tell me there’s ‘no hidden cost,’ as Azen says.”
Shaw sighed. “He says he wants to install an advisor in our government.”
Chief Bourbonjack snorted. “That sounds like a cost to me.”
“Maybe,” Shaw said. “But if we can’t win this war without Azen’s help, then we have no choice really.”
“Who says we can’t win the war without his help?” the Chief said.
Shaw shrugged within her jumpsuit. “Maybe we can, maybe we can’t. But even if our government allows Azen to install this advisor, that doesn’t necessarily mean our political leaders have to do what the advisor says.”
“I’m not so sure I like the idea of an alien entity tampering with our political system in any way,” Chief Bourbonjack said. “Not even to the extent of allowing some ‘advisor,’ no matter how innocent the position sounds. The UC tried something similar a few years back in Mongolia, if you recall, and we all know how well that played out. One of the worst foreign policy initiatives ever attempted.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t think this is about foreign policy,” Shaw said. “I believe Azen sincerely wants to help us.”
“Sure, that’s what all the nations say,” Chief Bourbonjack said. “Until they stab you in the back to protect their own interests.”
“At least listen to Azen’s proposal on the matter,” Shaw insisted.
“Oh I will, don’t you worry,” the Chief said.
I thought of something. “Shaw, you mentioned an SK, Fan. Let’s confirm it’s the same man my squad encountered.”
“All right.” Shaw transmitted some archival video.
I saw Fan’s familiar face appear on my aReal, pointing a rifle at her.
“Yeah,” I said, dismissing the vid. “That’s him.”
“He was a good man,” Shaw said.
“Of course.” I couldn’t hide the sarcasm. “From the way he pointed that rifle at you, he looks like a very good man.”
“If you watched more of the archive, you’d see.” Her eyes became sad. “I’m just sorry he had to end up that way. Possessed and robbed of his mental faculties. It’s my fault, really. I was the one who wanted to place the improvised explosive device.”
“If you hadn’t created that explosion you’d still be stuck on Geronimo. Fan’s sacrifice was entirely worth it, just for that.”
“Was it?” Shaw didn’t sound so sure. “How can we say one person’s life is worth more than another’s? Can the value be measured by how many people love and depend upon him or her? If so, then my life was definitely worth less than Fan’s, because he had a wife and four daughters. And how can you defend my actions when the possessed creature Fan has become ruined your own mission, and nearly cost all your lives? If I hadn’t allowed him to be captured, if I hadn’t detonated that explosive device in the first place, maybe you would have successfully destroyed the Skull Ship.”
“Or maybe we’d all be dead.” I crossed my arms. Fan was certainly a touchy subject for her. She was grappling with some of the same issues affecting me, but perhaps there was a way I could alleviate her conscience.
“What would you say if I told you we could still save him?” I said. “That Fan was not completely lost to us? That if we could capture him alive, we could force the Phant to leave him? I’ve done it before. With Lana.”
Shaw glanced at me, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “That’s something we can certainly try. Assuming we ever see him again.” Her eyes moistened and her voice caught as she continued. “But there’s someone else I wish we could bring back even more, but can’t. I didn’t tell you this earlier, but I also had a pet back on Geronimo. A hybear I’d adopted. Queequeg died saving my life during the final battle. So that makes two who sacrificed themselves for me. Two.” She closed her eyes as she walked. “I want to say it was worth it. I really do.”
I wrapped my gloved hand around hers, well aware that the eyes of every other squad member were upon us. “Then make it worth it. You owe it to them to live the best possible life. Otherwise their sacrifices were for nothing.”
Her eyes shot open. “Why do I feel like you’re regurgitating the very same words I told you when Alejandro died?”
I winced when she said his name but I refused to back down. “That’s probably because I am. But they’re good words, Shaw. Inspiring words. To live by.”
She grinned sadly. How I’d missed the cute dimple that came with her smile.
I let her go and we continued onward.
“Shaw,” the Chief said. “How did you and tinman actually get here?”
Shaw looked over her shoulder at him. “Tinman.” She nodded to herself. “I like that. You saw the debris falling onto the city from orbit back there?”
The Chief nodded. “I did.”
“That was our drop shuttle. Or what was left of it, anyway. It was destroyed by an airborne company of shock troops launched by the Skull Ship. We managed to take down that company, but not before losing the shuttle.”
“Wait a second,” the Chief said. “A drop shuttle needs a mothership, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Shaw agreed. “We have one in orbit. Azen will tell you everything.”
Moments later the tunnel opened into a vast cavern. Two more of the alien mechs stood guard, lighting the entrance on either side of us with their radiant hulls. Beyond them, the walls, floor, and ceiling were made of crystals that reflected all the colors of the rainbow. Ordinarily I would have felt a sense of tranquility when entering a cavern like that, but instead my stomach was all knots. What if this Azen wasn’t quite what Shaw believed he was?
After we had marched a short distance, a group of glowing, golden mechs approached from up ahead. I was struck once again at how incredibly lithe they were, despite their size. My heart began to beat, and I resisted the urge to lower the rifle from my shoulder.
One of the mechs broke away from the others and came forward alone, presumably so that we wouldn’t feel too alarmed. The towering things all looked the same, so I didn’t know the mech was possessed by Azen until it spoke.
“Greetings, Chief Bourbonjack,” Azen said, then shifted its head to encompass the rest of us within its cyclopean gaze. “MOTHs.”
None of us answered.
“There is no reason for any of you to be afraid,” Azen said.
“We ain’t afraid.” Bender seemed insulted.
“Your bodies exhibit all the classic fear symptoms. Elevated pulse and respiration. Elevated fluid secretions from the sweat glands. Elevated—”
“Your readings are bullshit,” Bender said, though I could hear a very slight tremble in his voice.
Glancing at my companions, I realized Azen was right. Bender and I weren’t the only ones who were spooked. Not surprising, given that the cluster of alien mechs before us was entirely invulnerable to our ballistic weaponry, and likely capable of disintegrating each and every one of us in only a few shots.
“I want to clear something up before we begin any negotiations,” the Chief said.
“Negotiations?” The amusement was obvious in Azen’s voice. “I had not indicated any negotiations would take place. Our help has no cost.”
“Really?” The Chief smirked. “Shaw hinted that you wanted to install a political advisor of some kind in our government.”
“An advisor?” Azen said. “No. Merely an observer. Perhaps myself. I have taken an interest in humanity.”
“That’s all you want?” Chief Bourbonjack said, sounding skeptical.
“That is all I want,” Azen agreed.
I spoke up. “It still doesn’t tell us why you’re helping us. An interest in humanity is one thing, but betraying your entire race for us is a completely different matter.”
Azen pivoted that blank face with its long, red eye toward me. “I am part of a rebel faction. Our goal is to halt the endless expansion of my species. Our empire has been conquering for so long that we have forgotten the reason we began the expansion in the first place.”
“Which was?” the Chief said.
“For geronium, first and foremost. But we are explorers, too. Not just of space, but consciousness. We exist in the dark fluid between matter, where time has little meaning. But you organics, time-bound in every sense of the words, have always proven an endless source of fascination. Encountering new races, integrating them, experiencing their form, it is a novel thing for us, to say nothing of the exchange in knowledge such integration entails.
“At first our intentions were peaceful. We searched for natural deposits of geronium to fuel our appetites and our ships; any organics we encountered along the way were given the option of freely integrating with us. Some races refused to provide any volunteers; others wanted to learn about us as badly as we wanted to learn about them and gave us thousands. But we wanted to share the organic experience with all of our kind, not just a select few, and there were never enough volunteers for everyo
ne, even if we hopped bodies. One of the organic races we encountered, known as the Masons, offered us a solution. They would construct artificial forms for us—what you would call robots—so that all of us could interact with this universe freely and fully. The evolved mechs you see before you have a basis in that ten-thousand-year-old Mason design, with several modifications borrowed from your own ATLAS units.
“In any case, we were happy for a time in these robot bodies, but soon became bored, desiring the pleasures and thrills of the flesh, something the robot bodies could not give us. We also craved more knowledge. There was always some species out there that had better technology in a particular industry: better starships, better weaponry, and so forth. We coveted it all. Our exploration of the galaxy soon turned to greed, and greed to conquest. We abandoned our robot bodies and no longer requested volunteers when we encountered a populated system: we took the hosts forcibly, usually to the last living being, despite any promises we had made to the system governments. Our expansion proved insatiable. We always wanted to attain the next organic species. The next phase of consciousness. The next technological advancement. Eventually we had the capability to build vast, unconquerable ships, and a means to convert planets into geronium. With these ships our expansion proved unchecked and we went forth into the galaxy, conquering all, glutting our desires for geronium, consciousness, and knowledge.”
Azen remained silent for a time. “It has to stop. We have far more geronium now than we will ever need, enough to last an eternity. We do not need to subjugate humanity or any other species. We have expanded our empire enough. We have gone too far. We are stagnating as a species because of it. We have not encountered technology more advanced than our own in over a thousand years—mostly because we’re not giving any of the nearby races a chance to develop. We’re stifling technological innovation by preventing spacefaring cultures from proceeding through their natural evolution.
“Worse, we are damaging the very fabric of the universe. Just as humanity nearly destroyed its homeworld, Earth, by polluting the land, sea, and air, sending countless species into extinction, we are doing the same at the galactic level. Destroying too many worlds, sending too many races into oblivion, polluting the higher dimensions of space with the byproducts of geronium manufacture, wreaking havoc with the fusion process in neighboring stars.